Put It In Your Pocket
by A face in a cloud
Summary: Jack and Boone stargaze. One shot, MM, oral


**Title:** Put It In Your Pocket  
**Pairing:** Jack/Boone  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Jack and Boone stargaze.  
**Notes:** Spoilers up to and including "Confidence Man." And yes, I know stubborn Jack has moved to the caves, but stargazing is easier on beaches. So there. Also, I just pulled some constellation names out of my ass - I only know what I've read in books and seen on television, so please don't hesitate to correct me if I'm wrong.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost, or Jack and Boone, or anything - and for that I hate the world.

Boone made little shapes in the sand with his fingers and watched people sleep at night. He had been finding the idea of sleep almost repulsing, just physically impossible to do. I mean, it wasn't for lack of trying. He would close his eyes and lay in the sand, but the wind would kick up and blow it in his face and he would have to turn over, where he was too close to the fire and it would be uncomfortably warm. Too far away from the fire and he got real cold, real fast. If he took off his shirt for a pillow the sand would sting his chest, and besides, Shannon always said the sand lice or sand bedbugs or whatever the hell they were might crawl inside his brain and lay eggs if he slept on the sand, which made him shift around a lot so as not to expose the same ear to the sand for too long. It was thoroughly exhausting to try to sleep, and besides, Boone liked staying up anyway. He could keep a better eye on things this way. He didn't trust any of the people he'd been mixed up with, and he certainly didn't trust the island.

It was extremely frustrating to watch other people sleep with natural ease, because they didn't have to feel any of it for seven or eight hours - no pain, no fear, no anxiety, no false hope, no nothing. A nice, peaceful fill-in-the-blank. Boone had to fill those in himself, spending long nights watching the wind eat wayward sparks from the campfire that Jack insisted be burning at all hours of the night, just in case a rescue plane went overhead. He watched an incredibly pregnant Claire sleep, bouncy-ball stomach rise and fall like the tides; he watched Charlie sleep beside her, hand laid protectively on her forearm, grunting in his sleep and occasionally mumbling the chorus to "You All Everybody"; he watched Rose, who was always off in a corner by herself somewhere, breathe in deeply, rhythmically, and felt a pang of guilt that he had done nothing to help her keep breathing. Kate, who would wrap a blanket over her even though it was swelteringly hot by the fire, would be curled on her side, knotted hair hanging over her face in chestnut spirals, next to the impossibly large landmass of Hurley, whose hair already gave Boone the impression that they were all becoming wild. Michael and Walt slept with their backs to each other like a married couple who fought about the price of two-percent milk, and in his own little tent, Sawyer sneered in his sleep. He probably wasn't even sleeping at all. This was his down time, which he used to think of stupid nicknames for Jack and Kate and more ways to remind everyone that shrapnel from the plane wreckage had somehow become lodged very far up his ass.

Tonight he was thinking about the day's scare. Shannon had almost stopped breathing. Okay, pointless drama and emotional and physical stress were occupational hazards of living with Shannon, but this time he wasn't angry with her; he had been so terrified that she wasn't going to make it that he couldn't even bring himself to say something like, "I'm sorry I didn't give you more sunscreen," or "I didn't really spit in your water bottle that one time, I was just having fun with you," because Jack had said to keep her calm, and talking to her like she was on her deathbed was only going to make her more upset. And it had worked for a while, until Sun came to the rescue with her magical green plant, which was definitely eucalyptus and not marijuana (Boone would not have turned away either). And finally Boone could breathe again, because Shannon could breathe again, and the second he had heard an insult out of her mouth he had laughed and kissed her on the cheek because it was so much better to have a well-respirated bitch around than a bitch whose face was turning different colors.

Boone stared at the fire, feeling slightly ashamed and unaccomplished. It seemed like he hadn't really contributed to anything since he'd been on the island - I mean, he'd contributed more than his sister, at least, but no one had any reason to consult him for anything or ask for his help; he felt disposable. It wasn't the greatest feeling in the world. I mean, he'd actually had a little fit on the beach after Jack rescued him the other day; he'd yelled, and Jack had just brushed him aside like a piece of lint and gone sprinting into the forest. It was frustrating to not have a purpose, to want so desperately to get away from his sister that he would tag along wherever there seemed to be trouble and watch everyone else struggle to deal with it while he just felt... numb. He felt numb to it all. He hadn't slept a single full night since they'd been on the island, so he had about twenty-two hours a day to sit around and feel numb.

Flames licked shyly at a seashell nearby; several yards away under a chunk of perforated steel, Jin snored and moved closer to Sun. Boone sighed and climbed to his feet, throwing shadows like buckets of water all over the rolling sand. He stepped gingerly through a mass of bodies breathing in sync and crept down the beach, where the number of bodies dwindled and the roar of the surf closed out everything else. He sat on a rock that protruded slightly out into the sea, a rock that curved into itself like a basin, where he thought he might even have room to sleep if the urge so took him.

It was nice and quiet for about five seconds when someone spoke somewhere above his right ear and his heart skipped a beat.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Boone gave a start and turned around to see Jack, half the buttons on his dirty shirt undone and a small smile on his face that Boone didn't return.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry if I scared you," Jack said. "I kind of scared me too." He laughed. "I don't hear anyone's voice out here this time of night."

"Oh," said Boone, who felt very stupid, like someone had just successfully slipped a whoopee cushion on the seat of his chair.

"I haven't slept a wink in days," Jack said, climbing onto the rock and crawling inside the pit that sunk inside its body. Boone laid his head back and looked at the stars.

"Yeah," he said. He wished there was something else he could say.

"So, are you okay?" Jack said after an uncomfortable silence.

"What?"

"How are you holding up? You and your sister, I mean, she wasn't - um - " He gestured wordlessly with his hands like someone playing an awkward game of charades.

"Oh," said Boone again, and then found that he had something to say after all. "Yeah, I... thanks, Jack. It was great what you did for her."

"She's a stubborn girl," said Jack with a smile, which Boone this time did return.

"Don't I know it," Boone said. "She's... she's so frustrating sometimes, I could just throttle her, you know? And she doesn't... she doesn't understand that we're all in this together. This island, this plane crash, this trauma - it's all shared, I guess." He breathed in salt air and turned to look at Jack. "It's like she thinks we all owe her something. Like she's going to be karmically rewarded for surviving the crash."

"She's scared," Jack said. "Everyone is. We just handle it in different ways, I guess."

"No," Boone said quickly, shaking his head and chuckling, "we've - she's always been like this. Always. It's her against the world. She won't contribute to anything that doesn't give her something in return. You know, in this twisted kind of way, I think maybe her and Sawyer might be good together after all."

"Oh now, you don't hate your sister that much," Jack said, and they both laughed. Boone dangled his legs off of the rock and felt the pleasant spray of the sea, and just looked at Jack for a second. The exhaustion was palpable between the two of them, some kind of weird bond that connected them. As if on cue they both leaned back and stared at the sky. "I like to look up at the sky when I get frustrated," Jack continued. "I stare at the stars and everything just melts off and away."

"I can't let things melt," Boone said. "I don't have that luxury."

"It's not a luxury, it's your right as a human being," said Jack. "If things are getting to you... well, you know how everyone says that looking up into space is supposed to make you feel like you're just this little tiny blip in the universe? It's not like that with me. I look at the stars and I feel like they're all on my side." He paused, and the silence was pleasant and thick with mutual friendship. "That's a lot of friends to have."

"Yeah, it is," Boone said softly, his mouth open as the sky swallowed him, Jack, and the rock. The sea brushed tenderly against the bottom of his toes. He felt Jack's leg brush against his as Jack sagged further down on the rock, opening his arms to the heavens and laughing.

"Feel that?" Jack said, and for a second Boone didn't know whether he meant his leg or the sky. "That's something else. Wow. That's really something else."

"Yeah, it is," Boone repeated, and he meant it. It felt kind of electric. There was some kind of star magic they'd triggered by sitting on this rock, just by talking, by looking up at the stars and consulting them for help. There was a moment where both of them just sat in awe of the sheet of diamonds that stretched out above them, shining valiantly against the glare of the moon like a twelve-year-old boy desperately trying to get his big brother's attention. Jack's head swiveled down to find Boone, who was resolutely staring at what he thought might be the north star.

"It's like we're this much closer to God," he said quietly, an endearing sparkle in his eyes.

"Or maybe something else," Boone replied.

"Or maybe something else," Jack agreed.

The water brushed up against their ankles this time, and Boone said, "You know any constellations?"

Jack shifted slightly on the rock and sighed. "Yeah. It's like connect-the-dots. When I was in high school, my friends and I, we would sit in the bed of my truck and just watch the stars. Point out all the constellations, make 'em up when we didn't know the rest of 'em."

"You've been doing this for a while, then."

"Oh, yeah," Jack said. "No novice here. It's therapeutic."

"We need therapeutic right now."

"Yeah."

Boone felt the star magic fade away, replaced by a different kind of magic, something new and exciting that made him feel tense. Good tense. He watched Jack's arm boil up out of the darkness, index finger pointing to the sky. "See that?" Jack said. "It's Ursa Minor."

"It's very... Ursa Minor," said Boone, who shifted uncomfortably on the rock, quite certain that what he was feeling right now was some mixture of the deprivation of two fundamental human urges, neither of which he'd satisfactorily had since the plane crash.

"And there's Orion," Jack said, the bulk of his arm swaying in the air like a periscope in the ocean of the sky. Boone swallowed and shifted again. "And the Little Dipper. I hate the Little Dipper. Everyone points it out because no one knows any of the others."

"You seem to know the others," Boone said, positively wriggling where he sat. Magic was almost up.

"Well, I do spend a lot of time doing this."

Boone nodded. "Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm going to kiss you."

Jack's hand came down and his eyes turned to meet Boone's, who knew that the stars had done something right when he saw a mischievous sparkle in his stargazing partner's eyes. Very slowly, Boone pulled Jack's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly, closing his eyes and breathing in. Palms first, fingers suddenly wet in his mouth and Jack turned on his side toward Boone, looking at the suddenness of the scene with a surprised interest, and Boone sucked Jack's fingers out of his mouth and twined them together with his as he leaned forward and captured Jack's mouth tentatively.

Water wet their pants around the ankles, but the sea was friendly, the night hid all flaws and the moon beamed at the pair of wriggling men on the stargazing stone as their mouths mashed together with the delicacy of two virginal high school kids in the pool house at midnight. Jack's other hand came around and shakily patted Boone's shirt collar, finally coming to an awkward rest on the nape of his neck like a spider of indecision. Boone encouraged the touch, and the kiss became deeper and more sensual, tongues tenderly branching off of home base and trading spaces. Their fingers gripped together tight and they moved closer together, Jack gripping Boone's neck more confidently, running his fingers along skin and hair. A small moan escaped from the back of Jack's throat and Boone smiled against his mouth, wrapping his arm around the back of Jack's waist and deepening the kiss even further. Their legs came up and they curled on the rock, twisting sinuously against each other. The water splashed higher on the rock as if demanding the presence of their feet.

Urgency and a certain brand of magic suggested they remove their shirts; Jack's was already half done, and Boone smoothly spread the worn fabric off his shoulders like butter, depositing it next to them on the rock where it would be forgotten until later. Digits pressed against each other, hands moved to rocky territory, skin caressed skin, and Boone was fascinated by the appeal of the thin coat of black hair on Jack's chest, which he kissed. He found his way to a nipple, which was also kissed, and Jack's hands were more assured as they climbed into Boone's dirty hair and squeezed. Their mouths met again and it was wet and glorious, lips smacking against lips, and Jack felt like he was back on the plane as it began its torturous descent, grabbing onto an air mask with a feeling of paralyzed thrill, except the air mask was the mouth of a beautiful man and the roar was not of impending death but that of a world of glass and aquamarine, seaweed and sudden movements, and tongues armed with strings of spittle bridged the gap between the mouths that crashed together, and it was all so perfect as Boone raised his arms and allowed Jack to remove his shirt, and in brief, silent cooperation, Boone leaned back and Jack was on top of him, kissing the brown of newly-tanned skin.

When Jack's hands found the prominent bulge under stained khakis, Boone wriggled, eliciting a deep laugh that felt like that pulse of thunder right after lightning. Their heads met and leaned against one another, forehead to forehead, both breathing harshly and almost visibly in the air, and Jack silently asked for permission, a permission he was granted without hesitation. Boone laid back and stared at the stars as his pants and boxers slithered off him and cushioned his nakedness as Jack gripped his arm comfortably and dug in. The warm was expected but it was a different kind of warm than the sticky hell of an island noon; it was stocked with the same kind of magic that had helped create this impossible lost night scenario, and Boone moaned loudly, so loudly that he half-expected Sawyer to pop up and make some kind of sardonic comment about the doctor sucking his dick, but there was nothing. They were in their own universe now, where only water brushed against the stargazing stone and their iron wills were clay putty in the hands of preschoolers.

Jack's mouth slid up and down the tower of veined flesh, hands trailing indistinct patterns everywhere, and Boone's hips rocked against the stone, gyrating to the carnal drumbeat. Spit hung on in globules where Jack had been, only to be swallowed as Jack recovered lost territory, tongue playing limbo around the head of Boone's cock as it hit the back of his throat, and Jack gagged a little which was somehow encouraging to Boone, who began to rock sensuous hips into Jack's mouth. Jack's sweaty hands grasped at Boone's hips, slippery and unsuccessful, and Jack pulled off, looking up at Boone, who said, "I'm sorry - oh, I'm - I won't, if - " and Jack pressed his lips to Boone's to shut him up and went back to work.

Boone's fingers were painful on the rock as Jack wrapped his lips around his cock again and again, slipping like ice and satisfying every kind of urge Boone thought he'd ever had (maybe not every urge, but there would be plenty of time for that later). His legs dangled precariously over the edge of the rock and the water was more ambitious now, lapping at his toes every now and then like an attention-starved dog, and the second the water swallowed his foot Boone came into Jack's mouth, and he came hard. The euphoria was instant and unprecedentedly good, flooding through his body like someone took the finger out of the dam and put it somewhere else. Boone collapsed in on himself and sunk right through the rock, evaporating into thin air, trying desperately to breathe. Jack moved up and laid his head on Boone's stomach, prickly stubble scratching sensitive skin.

It was a few minutes before Boone caught his breath and relaxed. By this time Jack had wrangled him back into his tattered khakis and they were laying together, close but not too close, looking up at the sky. There was a sense of peace so complete that it seemed almost obscene. Once or twice Boone caught his eyelids fluttering closed by themselves and knew that his lack of sleep was finally catching up with him. Jack held his hand and pointed out more obscure constellations. His voice was deep and rumbling, a quiet comfort in the night.

And suddenly, right when he was beginning to feel himself drift off, Jack was shaking him and saying, "Boone - look!"

Boone sat up with a grunt and said, "Who?"

"Look at the sky."

Boone was about to make a smart-ass comment about how the sky and the stars were amazing and everything but, if it was okay with Jack, he'd really like to get some fucking sleep, but forgot to talk when he saw a fiery scrape against the sky that disappeared somewhere near the moon.

"Wow," he said. "I've never seen a... a shooting star before."

Jack squeezed his hand. "Catch a falling star..."

Boone's thumb rubbed against the stubble of his chin, and their eyes met for a brief moment; their lips met for longer. When they pulled apart, Boone said, "Aren't we supposed to make a wish now?"

"Oh. Hm. Yeah, I guess." His hands rubbed affectionately at Boone's bare stomach, fingernails dancing around the curve of his bellybutton. "I wish - "

"No," Boone said with a laugh. "No! What childhood were you raised in? You can't say your wishes out loud, they won't come true."

Jack steadied himself and looked up with a shifty grin. "Then I guess I'm going to have to make them come true myself."

At camp, an optimistic bonfire crackled and hissed and forty-four people snored in earnest, and a hundred yards down the beach flesh moved together and stars were instantly forgotten.


End file.
